The Crown v Edward Lane
by KateEals
Summary: Sequel to Glasgow. As Jules recovers from traumatic brain injury, Ed goes on trial for assaulting the man who put Jules in a coma. JAM, good old Ed-Jules season 1 like friendship, and Generation Y slang and sarcasm.
1. Set Free

**Author's Note: **Welp, really didn't think I'd be writing this sequel so soon, but…the words of this story were just coming to me more than those of the (Sorry MMPR peeps : ( ) other story I have going and the _Metaphysical Marathon _"universe" story I have in my head. I have that one all played out, but, unfortunately, most of the dialogue I have is for the middle, action-y parts of it. We'll all have to wait for the return of Sean, I'm afraid. Anyway, thanks to all who read _Glasgow_. This here piece is supposed to tie-up some of the loose ends that story created, specifically, you guessed it, Ed going on trial. On that note, I was already developing this storyline a few chapters into _Glasgow_, but the name of it was "The People vs. Edward Lane." Just today I realized they probably use a lot of traditional British things in their legal system in Canada, so I googled it a little and realized that name would have sucked, because, duhhh, this story takes place in Toronto. Anyho, there are probably A LOT of legal mistakes in this story. Let me just give you a heads up that I am 1.) not a JD, and 2.) not a JD who lives in Canada. Therefore, google my help me, but I know I'm gonna screw up a bit. Hopefully the story will be compelling enough to overlook those points. Dang, that's a long AN….

I don't own or have rights to Flashpoint or Batman.

The Crown v. Edward Lane

Chapter 1: Set Free

St. Patrick's Hospital

Jules blinked as she opened her eyes to conscious awareness, light stabbing her hazelnut eyes and breaking through to her brain, a brain that she could now register already felt like it was on fire. As she blinked, she took in her surroundings and felt for the first time since she had awakened from some unknown state a couple of days before the ability to consolidate her thoughts and form speech.

"Sam," she whispered, fighting to push the words from her out of practice lips.

"Hey, Jules," Greg popped into her line of sight with a huge smile on his face. He sat on the edge of her bed and began to lightly stroke her face. "Good to hear your voice again."

Jules blinked again, wondering what he meant by that. She could have sworn she'd been talking to him only a short time ago about teaching some course to police academy cadets, but then, she realized she really couldn't be sure of anything at this point. She felt the weight of the confusion she'd been feeling for what now felt like a very long time. Her time-line was off and she couldn't trust anything from her own thinking.

"Sarge?" she tried to voice a question, a longing she felt an emanate need for. "Sam?" She felt her head throb with the effort it took to even voice these simple one word questions and blinked once more trying to will the pain away.

"Yeah, he's here, Jules," Greg smiled out again. It became obvious to her that he had some extreme joy, the reason for which her brain was now not allowing her to become privy to. "He just left for a minute to use the men's room. He'll be back." His smile deepened even more to an extent Jules never imagined anyone could even go without the help of some Joker-like laughing gas of doom. "He'll be so glad to hear you talking again." Greg laughed lightly as a tear of joy began to brim in his left eye. "I know I am."

Jules closed her eyes for a moment, attempting to force the pain she was feeling in her head away. On instinct, she tried to lift her left, dominate, hand to the source of its origin, but found the action too taxing; she found she couldn't will her hand to raise more than an inch no matter how hard she tried. The strain of this failed action upon her face, she lifted her right hand instead and tried to bring it to her head. Before it could reach the offending area, Greg grabbed her hand and held it in both of his.

"It's alright, Jules. You just got hit in the head and have been out for a while," Greg said with a slight, reassuring chuckle. "But it's best if you leave it be for now."

Jules nodded her head minutely in understanding and Greg squeezed her hand to show his gratitude to her awareness.

Just then, Jules winced as the jarring sound of a door opening and slamming back closed assaulted her now out of practice ears. Greg looked behind him and smiled back at her again. He patted her hand and rose from the side of the bed as he turned to speak to the person who had just entered the room.

"Hey, Sam. Look who's up and coherent again," Greg gushed as he let go of her hand and stepped aside.

Coherent? She'd been incoherent? Somehow that seemed right, but she was so confused she wasn't sure what was real and where time stood, so she didn't voice her concerns.

Blinking away this thought, she looked at the approaching form and her heart leapt. Sam.

A deep and genuine smile mirroring Greg's spread across Sam's face as he almost jumped to her side to sit on the bed and reached out to simultaneously touch her face and hold the hand Greg had just relinquished. "Hey, Sweetheart," he breathed out lightly as he leaned forward to kiss her forehead. He laid his own forehead against hers and closed his eyes for a moment before pulling back and staring into her half open eyes again. "How you feeling?" he asked with concern breaking through his joy.

Jules breathed a sigh of relief as she reached up and touched his face, making sure he was real, with the hand he still held, her dominate hand still lying motionless beside her. She was so confused; she would only allow herself to believe his presence was real by touching his so familiar face. She smiled slightly as she felt the stubble on his chin, then frowned, forgetting his question he asked her completely when she felt the presence of a bandage on the hand that still held hers even as she brought it up to touch his face. "Your hand?" she questioned with concern.

She could hear Greg laughing softly in the background as Sam frowned slightly, but then echoed Greg's chuckle. "Told ya," Greg laughed from behind him.

Jules narrowed her eyes, sure she was missing more than some inside joke she just couldn't remember at the moment and stared more deeply into Sam's eyes before catching the bandage on his upper arm as well. She sucked in a breath in concern. She hated the thought that something bad had happened to the man she loved. "Your arm…too," she struggled to breathe out.

Sam chuckled to himself this time, thinking of how of course she would be more concerned about what minor injury he had at a time when she was just fully awakening from a near death situation of her own. "I'm fine, Jules." He turned his head to roll his eyes at Greg. "Don't worry about me. I'm just glad to hear your voice again," he said turning his attention back to her and smiling.

There was that phrase again. The one about hearing her voice as if it was some lost treasure that her team had been searching for and longing to find for some long, arduous time. Confusion hit her again, because she felt the sensation that she'd been talking to Greg just a short time ago, but she reminded herself that she couldn't be certain when that time actually was. Everything just seemed so jumbled.

At this thought, all the evidence before her became apparent. She was laying in immense amounts of pain in an unfamiliar room on some unfamiliar bed as machines chirped and vibrated all around her under too bright lights. Greg and Sam were staring at her, refusing to take their eyes off her, as if if they did, she might disappear into some unknown land, presumably, again. They were smiling like idiots, or children receiving a much desired, but never allowed to dream for, present of Christmas morning. And again, that pain. That fog in her mind. The confusion. Her inability to lift her left hand…

"What," she sighed, trying to organize her thoughts into the coherence Greg claimed she now had once more as Sam and Greg waited patiently for her to finish her thought. "Happened?" she finally got out.

Sam fought to retain a smile even as his eyes darkened for a moment. "It doesn't matter. You're fine now, Jules," he said as if it was his solemn swear and promise to her.

Jules broke total eye-contact with him for the first time since she'd laid eyes on him moments before and turned her head painfully to look at Greg for answers. He sighed and shook his head at Sam as he stepped closer to her and reached out to softly stroke her face again, this time as reassurance for himself.

"You were injured, um," he paused, his thoughts taking another track. "What's the last thing you remember?" he asked simply in a nonchalant manner as if the subject at hand had minimal significance.

Jules thought for a moment and shifted through the thoughts in her muddled mind. Lying with Sam outside in a lounge chair on a soft summer's day; Seamus accidently pushing her out of a tree; her father looking on at her with anxiety; swimming with Sam in a cold lake; Sarge asking her to teach a class on negotiation at the police academy; Collin catching her and bandaging her throbbing head. Her throbbing head.

She couldn't be sure which of these thoughts were real memories or even real at all. But with Greg looking on at her with a reassuring smile, she thought to the one that seemed to have the sharpest clarity, the lease amount of haze around the edges.

"You, Sarge," she began as she worked to order her thoughts. She couldn't believe how hard it was to just simply speak. Something really bad must have happened to her. "You," she began and sighed in frustration at her lethargic communication skills. "Asked me to…teach rookies…" she trailed off, deciding that was enough information to share what she was thinking.

Sam blanched slightly, but then sighed as if he was happy she hadn't said something else. Perhaps happy she didn't remember what caused her so much pain now.

Greg picked up and patted her left hand, a motion she found she had trouble feeling as strongly as the contact both men had had with her right hand. "Just a little retrograde amnesia, kiddo," he gave her a previously unused moniker; or at least, she thought it was previously unused.

She blinked at him, willing him as best she could to continue.

He sighed as he shook his head but retained his reassuring grin. "We were on a call. You were hit in the head with a pipe by the subject's look-out while you were Sierra One." Sam flinched and tried to hide the pain in his face from the revelation of this information.

Jules thought for a second, but then reacted without processing all the information she'd been given. "I was Sierra One on a call for the first time in forever and I DON'T REMEMBER IT!" she questioned with as much strength as she could muster. She immediately regretted using up this much cognitive energy to communicate her automatic thoughts; her head ache compounded ten-fold and she winced in pain.

Sam narrowed his eyes and jerked his head for a moment before his grin crept back across his face and he began to laugh. Of course Jules would be most concerned and coherent about losing a memory of performing a now uncommon duty in her job.

Greg laughed along with Sam and leaned in to place a kiss on the crown of her head. "It's okay, Jules. You didn't miss much," he promised.

Another thought began to register in her apparently recently abused brain. She realized she didn't actually know how recently she had suffered this abuse. She studied the elated yet haggard visages of both the man she loved romantically and the man she loved like a father and felt a sense of unwarranted guilt. Somehow she knew she had at least partially, the part that was the victim of a crime of abuse, been responsible for their states of apparent unrest and dishevelment. A part of her cloudy mind reminded her that this was an irrational thought, an unnecessary reaction of guilt, but she couldn't help but feel and register it.

"How long?" she forced her tired and throbbing brain to process and ask. She needed this information more than she needed the comfort of resting her apparently newly awakened, shattered, and unpracticed brain.

Greg looked to Sam to see if he wanted to take a stab at answering her.

Sam nodded, sighed at Greg, then turned back to Jules and smiled with a hint of sadness. "Aw, Sweetheart, that was a full week ago." He brought her hand up to lips and kissed it. "You were asleep for five days and have been just in and out, babbling for the past two." He kissed her hand again and smiled with genuine joy again. "But that's all over. You're back with me now, and we'll just concentrate on getting you out of here as soon as possible."

It dawned on Jules that this unknown room was in a hospital and that she was probably in pretty bad shape if she'd been asleep, in a coma she realized, for a business week; she was probably in for another extended stay in the place she loathed like after she had been shot. It also dawned on her that the entire time she'd been unconscious, Sam had probably been living through some unknown level of Hell. She felt that stab of guilt again and frowned as she flexed the fingers he held in his hand and brushed the stubble covered cheek that she now knew was in such a state as a result of her unresponsiveness rather than just some mocho fashion statement like when they had first meant. "Sorry," she said as she held his eyes.

Sam shook his head and stared at her with a straight, serious expression. "No, Jules, no." He squeezed her hand and rubbed it against his face so as to feel her presence more deeply. "You never have to apologize for this. You never have to apologize for staying alive and coming back to me," he voiced strongly and with conviction as he leaned down, closed his eyes, and kissed her softly on the lips. Jules felt a tear wet her cheek as he held his forehead to hers once again. She innately knew it had come from not hers, but his tired eye. "Never say you're sorry for fighting back to me," he whispered. "I love you so much, Jules," he continued as if he had forgotten Greg was even in the room.

Jules closed her eyes for a moment as she absorbed his words and lightly began to stroke his cheek, showing the strength she still held, the strength of conviction she had in their relationship. She squeezed the hand that still held hers against his cheek and pushed his face back a few inches so that she could stare directly into his crystal blue eyes. "Love you," she said softly, but somehow strongly and with reassurance.

Greg turned away from the couple's tender moment as Sam smiled at her words. "Comforting me at a time like this," he chuckled. "Now I know you're really back."

City of Toronto Court House

"Now remember, OFFICER ED Lane of the Strategic Response Unit," Ed's attorney, Ted Sands, paused to chuckle at his own joke in reference to his and Ed's first meeting, "You only have to say 'Not Guilty.' Just like last time. No editorializing required. Capice?" the young lawyer asked with a hopeful grin.

Ed sighed and rolled his eyes at the young man's counsel. Although he could become exasperated by and often felt weary of Ted's age and relative lack of experience, he had to admit that the kid worked like a pro in mobilizing a team and leading them through their worry and concern for Jules to build a case for re-trying his initial bail hearing, not to mention the way he'd skillfully argued against prosecutors much older and more experienced than him. The kid had legal and leadership chops; there was no doubt about it. But, sometimes his Generation Y crap really got on Ed's nerves.

"Yeah, got it, junior," Ed responded in a clipped tone, but still allowed the young man a slight smile of encouragement despite the fact that he was raising his eyes and shaking his head.

"Okay, cool," Ted responded as if it was a hyphenated word.

Ed had the urge to do what Ted would label as 'Facepalming,' but held off in favor of looking behind him to catch his wife, Sophie's, eye. He smiled and mouthed, 'Love you,' to her. She caught his words, smiled, and gently touched her lips with her hand as if she was catching his expression of love and savoring it.

Ted caught a glimpse of Sophie's display and made a sound that mimicked what one would sound like if one made an inward cough. Ed swore he'd caught the same noise from his 17 year old son at some point. _Figures_, Ed thought. _Ted's only nine damn years older than Clark_.

"Dude," Ted whispered to Ed as he turned around from admiring Ed's wife's actions. "I totally want something like that when I grow up," he said referring to Ed's relationship with Sophie.

This time Ed DID 'Facepalm.'

Shaking his head, he slowly turned it to look at Ted with a straight lined mouth and narrowed eyes. Ted puckered his lips before rubbing his hand over them and raising his eyes to the ceiling as if lost in thought of some great philosophical truth.

Ed simply sighed and waited for the hearing to begin.

"All rise for the Honorable Judge Hastings," a court clerk soon announced.

As Ed rose with Ted, he turned to the young man and whispered, "Go get 'em, Tiger," with an affected grin.

It was Ted's turn to roll his eyes.

"The Crown against Edward Lane. One count of assault in the first degree. One count attempted murder in the first degree," the court clerk read the charges.

"How does the defendant plea?" Judge Hastings inquired.

"Not guilty," Ed voiced his much rehearsed simple line.

"Mr. Jennings?" the Judge asked the prosecutor in a common procedural manner.

"Although the charges against Constable Lane are quite severe, he is a decorated officer with strong ties to the community and his family," the prosecutor voiced to Ed's and Ted's immense surprise. "I simply request 200,000 dollars bail."

Ted turned to Ed and nodded slightly. He could imagine Ted saying, 'let's take this, man.' Ed simply returned his nod, ignoring the young man's unvoiced, borrowed 60's slang.

"Counsel?" the Judge asked Ted for a rebuttal.

"We have no argument, Your Honor. Two-hundred thousand dollars sounds fair," Ted responded.

"Well, that was easy," the Judge said with good humor. "The defendant will be held until he produces his bond, then released on bail. Next case," he called signaling the need for both Prosecutor Jennings and Ted and Ed to move along and allow for further court proceedings.

Before Ed was rushed off by a bailiff to be held in a court holding cell while his bail bond was being produced, he turned to Sophie, who was now behind him. "Listen, Soph, Honey—"

"Don't worry, Eddie," Sophie cut him off. "I'll just mortgage the house. You'll be home soon." She smiled at him with reassurance, raising Izzy in her arms so that he could kiss her before he was lead off.

"Thank you," he replied as he laid a kiss to Sophie's forehead as well. "I'll be home soon, but…" he trailed off.

"I know. You need to get to the hospital first." Sophie fed him a sad smile. Ed knew she had been there to see Jules, so he wasn't sure if the sadness came from that visit or the thought of having to wait even longer to have him home.

Ed nodded and smiled to his wife. "I'll pick-up supper on the way home," he promised as if today was just like any other day.

Sophie smiled back and gave him a mock admonishing look. "It's about time you pitched in, Eddie."

As Ed left the courtroom with his bailiff escort, he grinned to himself. There was no place like home, and he was heading back. And he believed with full conviction that that was where he would stay throughout and after his trial.

**Additional Author's Note: **Hahaha, Ted. Ted is my age, so he will speak like me and others in my age group, A LOT, dude. I found that that would not only be a bit of a comic relief part of this story, but also something that would make me more interested in writing Ed scenes. It makes me smile just thinking about it. Also, yay, JAM and Greg-Jules stuff! Now I don't have to cram that into flashbacks and flashbacks only : )

Anyway, **please leave a review** and let me know what you think so far.

Thanks for reading,

Eals


	2. The Things We do for Family

**Author's Note:** Hey guys! Thanks, as always, to everyone who read, reviewed, favorited, or followed this story based on the first chapter. I'm so glad so many of you are interested in reading the fall-out of Glasgow. Oh, there will be drama, vindication, and tears of both joy and pain.

I don't own or have rights to Flashpoint.

The Crown v. Edward Lane

Chapter 2: The Things We do for Family

Medicine Hat, Alberta

Collin Callaghan exhaled sharply as he attempted to steal his nerves for the course of action he was about to take. He lifted his hand to whip a trail of nervous sweat from his brow as he stared at his childhood home directly in front of him. The old farm house, with its wrap-around veranda and grayish-blue shingles, hadn't changed at all since his childhood. He hoped the people inside had.

As he stepped onto the porch, he reached for the key to the house he'd had since he was awarded responsibility of one along with a set of razors to signify his initiation into manhood, and his subsequent need to shave, when he was 13 years old, but stopped. This wasn't his home anymore. He lived in Montreal with his books and DVD's in French. He was a grown man with his own life, thoughts, and opinions, beliefs he stood up for, and now felt the need to ask permission to enter the domain of the man who had raised him, but in rejecting his daughter, somehow left Collin behind.

He knocked on the door and waited, adjusted the leather-bound book in his left hand before bringing his right hand up to fix his hair one last time. He should have made it to this, his childhood home, by yesterday at the latest, but his car broke-down just inside of Saskatchewan; the bus he'd had to take from there to Medicine Hat did not do anything for his already slightly unkempt appearance.

Less than a minute later, a tall, graying man appeared and opened the door. "Collin?" he asked in confusion.

"Hey, Pop…" Collin found himself at a loss for words. "I, ah," he shook his head down at the floor before bringing it back up to stare at his often unyielding father. "I need to talk to you."

Aedan Callaghan stepped aside to allow his second oldest child entrance. A look mixed of shock, confusion, and just a hint of joy lit his face. The Prodigal Son had returned.

Shaking himself from his surprise, Aedan pulled his son into a strong embrace. "Collin, my boy, it's been a while."

Collin surrendered to his father's hug and felt a sense of comfort only a father could give to his child. He was right. It had been a while.

Although Collin was good and called his father every few months to check-up on him and make sure he was getting along in his increasing age, he hadn't been out to Medicine Hat for over a decade, and his father, with his mortal fear of flying and hatred of long car rides, had never been out to Montreal to visit him.

"Missed you, Pop," Collin replied as he pulled away from the physical greeting. True, there had been a period of time when Aedan struggled to accept his son and has sexuality, but that time had long past and their relationship, if a bit strained, was more solid now than it had been throughout the majority of his adulthood. Collin just prayed his father would be able to find a way to finally accept Jules like he had Collin himself.

"Is Mick here?" Collin asked. He knew that at this time of the year, late summer just before the arrival of fall, his big brother Michael always went home to the Hat from where he lived in Edmonton with his family of his own to help his aging father prepare for the harvest.

As if summoned by Collin's words, a tall, slightly older and more muscular dark-haired man with a chiseled jaw stepped in from the back, kitchen door. "Pop?!" he called. "I just see someone come—" He stopped dead in his tracks when he caught sight of his younger brother. "We don't want any," he said with a joking tone as if Collin was a traveling salesman.

Collin chuckled at the mischievous look on his brother's face. Jules may have always been the wit of the family, but Michael was always the (often practical) jokester of the clan. "Nah, bro," Collin began as he clasped hands with his brother and was immediately pulled into the stronger man's embrace. "I never did have the negotiation skills of Pat or Jules," he said in reference to how their brother Patrick was a marketing executive and, of course, how Jules was…what she was.

Mick flinched and smiled sadly at the mention of his only sister. Collin never really knew how Mick felt about the subject of their sister defying their father and breaking out to a life of her own. He just always figured the jolly go lucky man preferred a life of non-confrontation, and in his close working and family leadership relationship with their father, he'd probably just gone with the elder's beliefs to keep the piece.

Keeping the peace. That's just how Jules had described her life's mission to Collin those few years ago when he'd cowardly decided to walk out of her life.

Aedan Callaghan coughed in the beat of silence after Collin's off-hand mention of his estranged daughter. "So, Collin, what brings you back to The Hat? Figured you'd be back in Montreal this time of year, preparing for another year of your fancy University life," he teased his son good naturedly. Collin knew his dad was genuinely proud that one of his children had earned a doctorate and become a professor at a major university. But that did not keep him from overtly giving Collin a hard time about him going from an uneasy life, roughing it on the prairies, to sitting in an ivory tower and thinking about inconsequential things in the lap of luxury.

Collin smiled sadly at his father. "This is more important." He flashed his eyes at his brother to signify he should be part of this conversation as well before continuing. "It's Jules, Pop," he said without more elaboration. He knew his father wouldn't hear anything after his prodigal daughter's name, at least not initially.

Aedan scoffed darkly. "I haven't talked to Julianna for ages. I can't imagine what we would have to say to each other." He paused as his face paled for a moment at the dreadful thought he'd always had, the same thought that drove him to drive her out of his life. Because, truth be told, Collin knew, the only real reason Aedan had locked her out of his life was because he couldn't handle the thought of what might happen to her in her job, especially in conjunction with the thought of how he'd already lost his wife and how closely the young woman resembled her.

But, the realization and knowledge of how his father felt and the motivations behind those feelings did not negate the anger Collin felt towards the man for simply cutting her off rather than working to find some common ground by which they could relate to and care for each other. This thought enraged him even more when he thought about the double standard of how that's just what their father had done for him, but how he refused to even try to do such for his daughter.

"I don't know how much she'll be able to say to you right now, Pop," Collin replied darkly. Although he knew his sister had awakened from the coma she was trapped in for almost a week, he didn't know how well she was fairing, how much damage had been done to her delicate brain. "All I know is she just needs your love and support right now, probably more than ever."

Mick's almost perpetual smile dropped at his brother's words. "What happened, Col—"

"I have nothing to say or give to her, young man," his father cut him off. "She openly defied me and cut herself out of my life," he paused to look at his oldest child, "this family."

Mick ducked his head at his father's words while Collin moved right in on his father with the signature Callaghan rage that marked all of them. "DEFIED YOU!" He snorted. "She's almost 40 years old, Pop, she can't 'Defy' you. It's just called living her life and making choices for herself!"

"Choices I Can't support!" Aedan shouted back at Collin.

"Choices that make her a better person than you or me or Pat or Mick, or, or," Collin found himself floundering for words for a moment, "possibly anyone in this family except for Seamus!" Mick cracked a bit of a smile in the middle of this heated moment at the thought of the youngest Callaghan, Brother. "She's a hero. Save's lives on a daily bases! Not one of us can make that claim!"

"Hero is just another name for—" Aedan began to respond before Collin cut him off.

"Yeah, I tried that one before too. Back when I made the stupidest, biggest mistake of my life and cut her out of it. I didn't really get it then, but I do now. We shouldn't scold her like an errant child for doing what none of the rest of us could. We shouldn't scold her for being stronger than us. That's just your proud, Irish hubris talking, Pop." Collin almost spat-out these last words in his rant.

Aedan narrowed his eyes and looked as though he wanted to smack his second oldest son for stepping so far out of line. But he held off; Collin sincerely wished it was because he was seeing the reality and truth of these words. "Maybe what you think is pride is just an old man seeing the world for what it is and knowing more than you do," he said in place of a slap.

But if Aedan Callaghan thought his words constituted a verbal slap, he would be sorely mistaken.

"Maybe I don't have your 'wisdom' yet, Pop, but I sure know a life of purpose when I see one." He took the leather bound volume the shape of a scrapbook in his hand and opened it to a random page as he shoved it into his brother's hands. A news story with a picture of what was unmistakably their little sister hanging by a rope from a tower with a young girl in her hands and a caption about Jules and a girl named Tasha Redford stared back up at him. "I started this when Jules joined the SRU to remind myself of the good she does in the life she chose." He shook his head at himself at the thought of his own cowardice after she had been shot. "I cut her out of my life after she was shot, but that didn't stop me from continuing to subscribe to Toronto newspapers and look for stories about her work." He looked deeply into first Mick's than his father's eyes. "You see, I may have thought I couldn't deal with watching her put her life on the line every day, but I NEVER stopped caring about her."

Mick looked up from the Easton Center story he was reading to stare at his brother and absorb his words before turning his attention back to the book and flipping through the pages in wonder. Aedan remained stonily silent beside him.

"I came here to tell you Jules just woke-up from a coma a criminal put her in on a call last week and to ask you to come back to Toronto with me to help her through what's bound to be a tough recovery, but," he shook his head at his father, "I can see that probably won't happen."

While Mick still appeared engrossed in the scrapbook, Aedan just stared down at his soil-sodden work boots.

"I'm going back to Toronto to see if I can make-up for the years I wasted without my little sister in my life." He turned to leave his childhood home and walk towards a bus stop that would take him to the closest airport. "Keep the book, guys," he said over his shoulder to his silent and immobile family members. "You might just learn something your 'wisdom' didn't enlighten you to before."

With that, Collin walked through the farmhouse door, potentially out of his father's, and subsequently brother's, life, but back into his brave little sister's.

St. Patrick's Hospital

As he walked towards the St. Patrick's Hospital ICU, Ed looked at the return text he'd gotten from Greg in reference to his question of whether or not he could visit Jules. He was surprised to see that his older, professional boss had punctuated his reply of 'Absolutely' with a smiley face emoticon. He could only imagine what Greg's actual face looked like if this is how he was expressing himself in text-speak.

As he approached the fallen sniper's room, he caught sight of Greg at the door. The man turned over his shoulder to say something to the room's sole occupant before turning his attention to Ed.

"I'm gonna head down to the cafeteria for a coffee, give you two a moment alone," he said with the over-sized smile on his face that Ed had predicted. "Don't beat her or anyone else up." He patted Ed's shoulder while he fed him a sarcastic smile.

Ed sighed. "I'm never gonna live that one down…"

Greg grew slightly stern with him. "Not that I don't see where you were coming from." He paused to think for a moment. Ed could imagine he was seeing the memory of Jules on that rooftop a week before. "But, you earned it, BUDDY."

"You know I'd never," Ed started, but was cut-off by Greg with a wave of his hand.

"I know, Eddie. Just a little father-knows-best for you," he said with a knowing smile.

Ed ignored the fact that he and Greg were practically the same age. He supposed he had every right to be treated like an errant child at this point. "Thanks, Boss."

Greg slapped his back before turning and heading towards the cafeteria.

Ed breathed out a sigh, attempted to steal his nerves, before turning and entering the hospital room of his maimed, yet still living teammate.

"Hey, Jules." Ed paused as he got his first real view of Jules; she had a scar lining the right side of her forehead and her eyes were only half opened at the sound of his voice. He immediately thought how right he was to have done what he had done.

Jules looked up with half-lidded eyes. "Ed," she barely whispered out as she smiled at his approaching form. As he got closer, she frowned slightly. Ed could guess it was on account of the bruises on his face left by the group of inmates who had gang beaten him in the city jail when they found out he was a cop. Yet she didn't say anything. Ed hoped this was on account of her figuring they were just the result of some hot call rather than not being able to voice her thoughts.

Ed smiled in return to her greeting so as to not express his real feelings at the startling sight of her and scare her, and swiftly walked to her bed. "Hey, Jules," he said once more, but took a good, closer look at her now nearly eviscerated visage. He couldn't hold in his feelings towards the matter any longer. "Oh, Jules," he whispered softly as he frowned and couldn't help but drag his hand across the skin under the scare outlining her face. The determination to fight for her, just at the look of her external disposition, was hardened by their close proximity.

He worked his hardest to smile. "Where's Sam?"

Jules sighed and gave what Ed assumed amounted to a laugh for her in her current state. "I," she began to whisper out. It was obvious any speech was difficult for her. She blew out a breath, seemingly exasperated with herself. "Sent." She sighed again. "He needed…a shower."

Ed smiled to hide the fact that he could tell she was struggling for words. He hoped it was more for emotional reasons than mental or physical ones that were the result of her injury.

Jules frowned at him as he reached forward to grab her right hand in his as he settled on the edge of the right side of her bed. Jules struggled to lift her eyes to him. "I'm...sorry if I don't," she sighed and shook her head a bit, "remember you here before." Ed could see that she was on the verge of continuing this line of thought and so didn't jump in to interrupt her expressed thoughts. "I've been…out of it."

Ed nearly cried at the only half-lidded, half eye-roll she was able to muster to punctuate her statement. The fire and sarcasm of one of the few people he believed could ever beat him physically or verbally had waned to the point that he wanted to punch a wall. He now understood why Sam had done so on that terrible day. This feeling only validated his resolve in keeping his stand and believing he'd done the right thing in bringing the man who had nearly killed her to justice.

He reached out and brushed her bangs with his right hand as he continued to hold her right with his left. "Aw, no Jules, no, it wasn't you. I haven't been here since you first got here." At the look of her rather dismal attempt to hide her sadness at his admitted lack of appearance, he continued. "No, no, no, Jules. I've wanted to be here, I really have. I just—" He sighed and shook his head. He knew Jules was trying to hide any hurt she may have been feeling about Ed not coming to see her earlier. She, more than anyone but maybe Greg, saw Team One as a true family. "No, I just."

Jules looked into his eyes as best she could, seeing that there was more to this story than he was letting on.

Ed sighed and hardened his face, looking to the ceiling so as not to convey any animosity towards her. "I got the guy who hit you, Jules. I found him." He stared back at her and read her attempt at a skeptical expression. Of course she would question him even in her weakened state.

"I beat him, Jules." Her eyes opened wider than they had the entire time he'd been there. "I beat him badly."

Ed became mute at the conclusion of this confession.

Jules stared back at him, keeping her wide eyes as long as she could for effect. She drooped them again after a few more seconds, not able to hold the effort. Ed was glad. He didn't like to see her strive and strain herself so hard for him.

"Why?" she asked him in a meek voice that Ed knew she strived to be strong.

Ed frowned at her, but he knew where she was coming from. Jules really didn't know how much she meant to him, how much he considered her family; a little sister, sometimes even a daughter. Before he'd always been her hard-ass teammate when they were snipers together, boss when they were on tactical together. He'd teased her, sure, everyone teased her in a brotherly way; how else would you deal with having a female teammate whom you KNOW could probably kick your ass.

He chuckled to himself for a moment. Bad-ass Jules: the chick who could probably beat-up 90% of the men in the department, SRU or not.

He smiled at her. "Because you're you, Jules," he answered simply, as if it was blatantly obvious. "I went after that guy because you're you."

Jules did her best to show him a look of disbelief and confusion. At the struggle and effort that went into this action, Ed was again renewed in his belief that he had truly done the right thing.

Ed sighed, gave a half smile, and did something he knew Jules never would have guessed he would have done on any day but perhaps her wedding day: he kissed her hand in brotherly comfort and friendship.

"I've never been good with this stuff, Jules, but I'm tell'n you now," Ed began as he stood up and backed away slightly, relinquishing possession of her hand in the process. He didn't want Jules to smack him for what he was about to say. "I don't like it when you're in danger, Jules, I just don't." She gave him her closest semblance to a nonchalant look. "I didn't really care about it when you and I were mostly snipers together," he laughed, "remember in the days when I teased you like a little sister?"

He paused to remember interrogating her on dates and posing as her personal assistant with guys he didn't approve of.

Jules shifted her head in acknowledgement. It was obvious by this small action to Ed that she was getting tired. Her easy fatigue strengthened his resolve further.

"I don't like it when you're in danger or when you get hurt." Ed sighed and sat on the edge of her bed again. "I didn't like it when you went off of the side of that media tower, or when you went out looking for a sniper with Sam on your own." He reached out and squeezed her hand at the thought of her getting shot when HE was the one who was a target. "I didn't like it when you went undercover in that rabble-rousing-rave crowd to find the ring leader for the group trying to kill that cop." Ed sighed harder. "And mostly, I didn't like the fact that I had to leave you alone in that lab while you were bleeding to death and being infected with anthrax."

Jules stared at him with as much conviction as she could. He expected her to tell him to knock it off, but instead she stated, "Help me…" she sighed, "with my left arm." Ed frowned in incomprehension. Jules shifted her head. "I'm have'n trouble…lift'n my left arm..."

Ed lifted it for her left hand and allowed her to guide it to sit atop of her right hand where his left hand was already sitting. "Get," Jules began. She squeezed his hand as well as she could. "Over it, Ed," she breathed out in a smile. She did the best that she could to turn her slight smile into a smirk.

Ed laughed. "Thanks, Jules," he breathed-out, glad to see her dry, sarcastic personality was still intact. He was glad to see that in her weakened state there were some things even violence couldn't take away from her.

However, her valiant effort to even speak to him had only solidified his resolved to continue to defend himself for only defending her. She was family, and she was worth it.

**Additional Author's Note**: If you notice, the two sections of this chapter are somewhat mirrored images of each other. Well, a funhouse mirror…The themes of family, errant children, and father knows best attitudes are just a few of the shared themes. Now, for homework, compare and contrast the two sections and create an argument for or against the claim that the two sections are foils of each other. JK, just something to think about. Why is Seamus such a saint? Don't worry, you'll find out later (even if I did kind-off give it away already). I actually wrote most of the Ed-Jules scene way back in May or early June. Yes, one of the reasons I decided not to kill Jules was so that I could have her tell Ed to "get over it."

**Please Leave a review** and let me know your thoughts on this chapter.

Thanks for reading,

Eals


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